


Darling

by totalizzyness



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Blackadder References, Fluff, M/M, darling - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-01
Updated: 2012-10-01
Packaged: 2017-11-15 10:53:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/526503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/totalizzyness/pseuds/totalizzyness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based off my own prompt: Eames flirts with Arthur mercilessly (with all his pet names: darling, kitten, pet, etc) and after finally getting together, Arthur reveals his surname is actually “Darling”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Darling

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time writing Inception, but I needed this fic like air, so please be nice.

Pet names were Eames’ “thing”. Like Arthur had his suits, and Cobb had his super-fucked-up subconscious. He didn’t usually mean anything by them; most of the time they just slipped out — except around Cobb. He’d accidentally called the extractor “pet” once in a dream, and received a warning shot to his foot. Never again.

Arthur was a different case, however. Arthur never shot at Eames. Well, not for calling him names, anyway. And Eames called him all the names he could think of. He loved the way Arthur’s calm exterior would shatter as he visibly cringed at something Eames said. The way he’d once snapped a pencil after Eames had perched himself on the edge of Arthur’s desk and said: “I love your tie today, darling.”

It was like Eames was back in comp and the only way he could express an interest in a pretty girl — or boy in this case — was to pull their (metaphorical) pigtails. And Arthur’s pigtails were so easy to pull; Eames knew that one day he’d break Arthur and take him home with him. But he had to be very meticulous in his child-like wooing.

After achieving inception, the team stayed close; Arthur, Eames, and Ariadne were the big three now, relocating to Paris so Ariadne could finish her studies at the same time. Yusef and Cobb were only a phone-call and plane-ride away; Saito became the team’s silent partner. Being a close team meant more time spent together; more time spent with Arthur. Which meant more time subtly hinting that Arthur should get in Eames’ pants already.

The team had picked up a simple local job; a Parisian businessman who was sure his German partner was trying to dissolve his shares and take over the company and wanted to know if it was true. As always, Arthur was in “the office” (read: loft space above a closed down bank) bright and early collecting information on the business partners. Ariadne had morning classes, which left Eames to help Arthur in his work. And by help, he meant tease mercilessly.

He strolled in to the office, two cups of coffee in hand, a lazy grin on his face. Arthur was hunched over his desk, typing away furiously at his laptop. Eames set the coffee down to Arthur’s left, leaning against the desk.

“Medium americano with cream, one sugar, just how you like it, darling.”

Arthur’s eye twitched at the name, but reached out for the coffee all the same. “Thank you,” he mumbled. Eames grinned.

“Anything for you, poppet… What am I to be doing today?”

Arthur took a quick sip of the coffee and motioned to a manila folder at the end of his desk, “read the notes I’ve prepared for you. You need to know how to extract the informa-“

“-I’m playing extractor?”

“Well, yes… Is there a problem?”

Eames smirked, “I can’t do it.”

“Why? I know you can do it, you’re a rather skilled-“

“-Nice of you to say, love, but it’s not a question of my skill… I’m British.”

Arthur narrowed his eyes, “I’m aware?”

“He’s French. Too much bad blood. No way would he dream up Englishman, let alone spill his dirty secrets to him. And you won’t do either, bloody yank.”

“Oh for fucks… You can change accents, can’t you?! You’re a forger!”

“My French is terrible… I do however know someone very gifted at the Language of Love.”

“Who?”

“You, darling.”

There was the eye-twitch again.

“You want me to do it?”

“You speak French, do you not?”

“…Yes.”

Eames grinned, lifting his coffee cup in victory, “well there we go.”

“Then I’ll be doing all the work!”

“You like work! And it’s not like I can’t help out.”

Arthur went silent, glancing between his laptop, the file, his coffee, and Eames, before sighing, “you come in every morning no later than seven. You do everything I tell you to do, how I tell you to do it, and when I tell you to do it. Do I make myself clear? I’m not having you slacking on the job because you have nothing ‘important’ to do.”

“Ooh, I love it when you get authoritative. Sends tingles down my spine.”

“Do I make myself clear, Mr. Eames?”

“Crystal, pet.”

“Read that folder.”

It was rapidly turning in to the best job ever. Taking over Arthur’s job meant working in even closer proximity. He relocated his things over to Arthur’s desk, including — to Arthur’s chagrin — his miniature Newton’s cradle. Arthur wasn’t one to be distracted or wound up easily — he worked with Eames, for Christ’s sake — but the constant clack-clack-clacking of the balls drove him crazy very quickly.

“It turns out his grand-father actually started the business back in ‘28, and was almost ruined when the Nazi’s seized France, but- Eames can you stop that?”

Eames grinned around his pen, fixing an amused stare on the distressed point man, “stop what?”

“Your toy! Stop it!”

“Why? Is it distracting you, kitten?”

“Yes. And don’t call me kitten.”

Eames just smirked and reached out to stop the ball hitting the next one. Arthur nodded his thanks and returned to dictating his notes. Eames lifted his legs and rest them on the edge of the table, turning his body towards Arthur, and getting a quick glare for his efforts. It didn’t stop Arthur from his speech however, carrying on as if Eames was but a minor annoyance. Eames knew he could do better than that. He began playing with his pen in a highly inappropriate manner; running it along his lips, biting on it seductively, occasionally curling his tongue around the tip. He knew Arthur could see him, his eyes occasionally flitting over, his voice almost breaking. At one point Arthur even loosened his tie, clearing his throat and carrying on as if nothing was getting him hot and bothered. Eames grinned.

“Are you getting hot, darling?”

Arthur glared. “I’m fine, may we continue?”

“I merely enquire, love. You look uncomfortable.”

“Well, could you stop sucking on your pen like it’s a lollypop?!”

“Oh, I wasn’t pretending it was a lolly…”

Arthur’s eyes widened, a scowl setting firm in his features. “Mr. Eames-“

“-I’m just playing with you, poppet. Calm down. You’re so on edge!”

He slid out of his chair and stood behind Arthur, grasping firmly at his shoulders before starting to knead the tight muscles beneath his hands. Arthur was torn between letting him continue and shaking him off.

“Eames-“

“-Relax, darling. And continue with your notes.”

“I have work to do, Eames. Can’t you read them yourself?”

“But I’d rather hear your simply delicious voice read them to me.”

Arthur sighed in defeat, there was no arguing with Eames when he got like this. He endured (read: enjoyed) the back rub he was receiving and continued to dictate the notes, occasionally groaning when Eames hit a particularly tense spot.

The days leading up to the job were very much the same. Arthur did research and went through it all with Eames whilst practicing his conversational French, Ariadne sat at her desk building the maze, and Eames tried his best to get under Arthur’s skin.

“Here’s your coffee, poppet.” “I brought you ‘Le Parisien’, darling.” “Cobb called whilst you were out, pet. You need to ring him back.” “You’re looking delicious today, darling. New suit?” “Going out for a fag, love? I’ll join you.” “You have a piece of hair sticking up, darling.” “You’re looking tired, kitten, go lie down.”

Eames noticed ‘darling’ seemed to get under Arthur’s skin more than any other pet name — except for kitten, which he reprimanded Eames for again and again — and so used it as often as he could. The more he used it, the more he felt like he’d fallen in to an episode of Blackadder; which prompted the question: who was Baldrick in this mish-mash? His mind wandered, imagining Yusef as Baldrick and began chuckling to himself, receiving strange looks from Arthur as he did.

“Something amusing, Mr Eames?”

Eames grinned, “one does what one must to keep in high spirits, darling.”

Arthur twitched on cue, “how lucky for one.”

“Indeed. So. How’s the French coming along, dearest?

“Fine. Have you researched any further in to our mark?”

“All ten pages are printing as we speak. So, come on. Hit me with the Language of Love.”

Arthur rolled his eyes. “Tais-toi et retourne travailler, Monsieur Eames.”

“Beautiful.”

“Seriously, Eames. We both have work to be getting on with.”

“Very well.”

Step one of wooing Arthur seemed to be coming along quite nicely; Eames felt right at home under Arthur’s skin. It was time for step two; being super, super, bloody nice to the man, whilst still taking the piss.

After an hour of actually doing his research — earning himself a few appraising looks from Arthur — he jumped up, a lazy grin on his face. Arthur looked up at him warily.

“I need a break for a fag and some decent coffee. Want anything?”

“I’m fine with the coffee we have, thank you.”

“Come on, darling. My treat?”

“Eames-“

“-I insist!”

Arthur rolled his eyes at Eames' cheeky grin, “just my usual then, please.”

“Of course. Ariadne! I’m off on a coffee run, anything for you, sweet?”

“No thanks, Eames. This coffee-mud blend we’ve got keeps me grounded.”

Eames’ mind went back to an episode of Blackadder and laughed, before grabbing his things and hurrying out of the office. He pulled out his packet of pre-rolled cigarettes — not everyone wants to smoke those slim-line attractive ones like Arthur — lit it, and walked the short distance to the nice little café they’d found which did the nicest caramel mocha’s Eames had ever tasted. He lingered outside whilst he finished his cigarette, imagining possible dates he could take Arthur on; a lunch trip to the café could be very romantic. Flicking the butt of the cigarette in to a small puddle, he marched inside, ordering the coffee and a little something extra for Arthur and made his way back to the office. When he returned, he found Arthur lounging on a bench in the court-yard, smoking a cigarette like it was to be his last, staring contemplatively at the clear sky.

“Enjoy it whilst it lasts, darling,” Eames smirked, sitting himself next to the point man. Arthur took a long drag, not looking away from the sky, holding the smoke inside his mouth before letting it slowly curl out from between his lips. Eames licked his own lips, very nearly aroused by the sight in front of him.

“Why do you call me that?” Arthur asked, his voice low and soft, still not looking at Eames. Eames began messing with the coffee he;d bought to give his nervous hands something to do.

“I just do, poppet. It’s a term of endearment.”

“But it’s only me. Why just me?”

Eames watched Arthur take another drag of his cigarette, this time inhaling the smoke. He cleared his throat — another nervous tick — and pushed Arthur’s coffee in to his free hand.

“It’s not just you, I call everyone names.”

Arthur shook his head, taking a final drag and flicking the remains of the cigarette in to the grid in front of him. “No you don’t. I know why you don’t call Cobb, but you don’t call Ariadne names, or Yusef… Just me.”

“Maybe I like you best.”

Arthur finally looked at Eames, his eyes void of his usual harsh focus, replaced by something softer; Eames was sure his heart skipped a beat, his mouth dry. Arthur snorted softly.

“Like me best? Why would you like me in the first place?”

Eames tried to laugh off his awkwardness, “why wouldn’t I like you, darling?”

“Don’t answer a question with a question, Eames, it’s rude.”

“Well, what I mean is, uh… You don’t give yourself enough credit, Arthur. There are many reasons for people to like you.”

“I give credit where credit is due. And that doesn’t answer my question, Mr Eames. I didn’t ask why people like me, I asked why you like me.”

Eames nervously ran a hand through his hair, plucking another cigarette from his packet. “I don’t know what you want me to say, Arthur. Would you like a bullet-pointed list or a five-page-essay?”

The corner of Arthur’s lips twitched upwards as he fished in his pocket for his lighter. “A bullet-pointed list wouldn’t go amiss, but just a reason would be fair.”

“Just one?”

“Just one.”

Eames took a small puff of his newly-lit cigarette, glancing around the court-yard before finally looking back at Arthur. “I don’t get you. My job is to get people, to understand them, learn how they work, what makes them tick. Ariadne was easy, Yusef even easier. Cobb, a little trickier… But you… We’ve been working together how many years? And… I just… Don’t get you.”

“You like me because I confuse you?”

“I suppose, yes.”

“And… You’d like to get to know me?”

Eames looked away again, taking a drag of his cigarette followed by a sip of his coffee. “I don’t know, darling. Getting to know you might take away the mystery of you. Collecting is more fun than owning.”

Arthur smirked, finally taking a swig of his coffee, “I can assure you, Eames, even if you had all the time in the world you wouldn’t learn everything about me.”

“Is that a challenge or a promise?”

“Your choice… Poppet.”

Arthur grinned and marched back inside, leaving Eames to backtrack through the conversation before he too was grinning. He quickly finished his cigarette and grabbed his things, rushing back in to the office after Arthur. Arthur was already at his desk, tapping away furiously at his laptop, Ariadne was still at her desk building the maze. Eames stalked over to Arthur’s desk, sitting down in his chair; Arthur barely bat an eyelid.

“I forgot before, I got you a little something extra, darling,” Eames smiled, pushing a chocolate muffin across the top of the desk until it was in front of Arthur. Arthur glanced down quickly and smirked, still typing away.

“You shouldn’t have.”

“But I wanted to… And about that challenge…”

“It was a challenge, was it?”

“Of course it was… So… What would you say to… Dinner?”

“Dinner?”

“Tonight.”

“I’ll check my schedule.”

“I’ve already checked.”

“Am I free?”

Eames smirked, shuffling closer, “for dinner with me? Always.”

Arthur smirked too, “I’ll have to think about it, Mr Eames. Until I have your answer, how about doing some of that work I know you still have?”

Just to appease Arthur, Eames knuckled down to his work, sifting through piles and piles of information, putting together reports and bios, only taking one break. Before he knew it, it was gone-seven. Ariadne had already left to work on the maze designs at home.

“Are you ready?”

Eames looked up; Arthur was stood in front of him, his own coat on and Eames’ in his arms.

“Huh?”

“You’re taking me to dinner, are you not?”

Eames grinned, “of course, darling.”

Arthur still twitched at the name, but it was less a twitch if annoyance, and more one of sense memory. Whatever it was, Eames found it endearing. He grabbed his coat, yanking his arms through the sleeves before leading Arthur out of the office and through the streets of Paris to a quaint little restaurant he’d seen.

That night was the first date of many. Every other day, Eames would take Arthur out to dinner, or for coffee, or to a bohemian art gallery down one of the back streets. After every date, the next day on the job, Arthur would reveal a small piece of information about himself. Eames quickly found he had enough information to start a biography of the man’s life. Their relationship in the office remained professional — or as professional as Eames could humanly be. Ariadne didn’t find out about their affair until she caught them sharing their first kiss in the pathetic excuse of the kitchen their office had. Arthur had just explained how hard he’d found it to resist Eames the previous night in the suit that he’d worn to dinner; Eames replied with a grin, asking why he bothered resisting before pulling Arthur closer, capturing his lips in a soft kiss. Ariadne gasped and rushed back over to her desk, hoping they hadn’t heard her.

“Should we tell her?” Arthur mumbled. Eames smirked.

“I suppose we’d better.”

“You tell her. You can charm her with your accent and smile.”

“You’d better have my back, then.”

Arthur smiled, pressing a quick kiss to Eames' lips. “I always do.”

—

A month in to their relationship, Arthur and Eames found themselves staying with the Cobb family for Thanksgiving, Cobb’s reaction to their relationship ranging from hilarious to terrifying.

James and Phillipa had been sent off to bed, Miles and Marie had retired themselves not too long after, leaving the three friends to themselves, sitting around the dining room table sharing stories and a bottle of scotch.

“So Eames… I need to know… Has Arthur told you his biggest secret?”

Arthur’s eyes widened, “Cobb…”

Dom grinned, “it’s simply amazing, especially for you!”

Eames smirked sheepishly, “I’m not sure what you’re talking a-“

“-Ignore him. He’s desperate for a bullet in the brain, any second.”

Cobb laughed, “come off it, Arthur, it’s not that bad!”

Eames’ eyes flicked between the two men. “Seriously, boys, what are you talking about?”

“Nothing.”

“His surname!”

Arthur rubbed his forehead nervously, “please, Cobb. Don’t do this.”

“You’ll fucking love it, Eames. Trust me.”

“I’m begging you, Cobb!”

“He needs to know, Arthur. You can’t keep it from him forever!”

“I can try!”

Eames smiled, reaching across for Arthur’s hand. “Come on, darling, it’s just your surname.”

Arthur twitched again, more violently then he had been doing recently. Cobb’s grin doubled.

“Oh this is amazing.”

Arthur glared, “seriously, Cobb-“

“-It’s Darling!”

Arthur dropped his head to the table; Eames looked at him confoundedly, then up at Cobb.

“Excuse me?”

“His surname! Darling!”

“His… His surname is actually-“

“-Arthur James Darling, son of Sarah and James Darling… Are you happy now?!” Arthur snapped. Cobb just nodded, refilling his glass. After a few moments of glaring at the table, Arthur finally resolved look up at Eames, rolling his eyes at the biggest, toothiest grin he’d ever seen on his lover’s face.

“You’re taking the piss, right?!”

Cobb barked out a laugh. “Nope. You are dating a bona fied ‘Darling’. Why do you think he cringes every time you call him that?”

“I hate you both,” Arthur mumbled, draining his glass.

“I recall, about a week in to your relocation to France, Arthur rang me up demanding to know if I’d told you his name, because you were always calling him darling,” Cobb chuckled. Eames just grinned.

“The name just fit… Now I know why!”

“You’ll shut up now if you don’t want the sofa tonight,” Arthur grumbled. Eames just laughed and pulled his hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to Arthur’s knuckles.

“I didn’t think I could love you any more, darling.”


End file.
